


The Shots You Don't Take

by Moebius



Category: Mighty Ducks (1992)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-19
Updated: 2007-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1639298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moebius/pseuds/Moebius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Women's ice hockey officially became an Olympic sport in 1998 at the Nagano games.  What a perfect place for two former Mighty Ducks to meet up again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shots You Don't Take

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my betas, HHertzof and Rickmaniac101. I take some liberties with the '98 Olympics, but try to remain as historically accurate as possible (I even watched YouTube clips to refresh my memory). My recipient wanted hockey and fluff, so I hope this delivers.
> 
> Written for Sailorscully

 

 

"You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." - Wayne Gretzky

College split us up. The Olympics brought us back together. You know, the usual story that starts on a frozen pond in Minnesota and ends in Japan.

I was whiling away my college years - classes are those things you show up to if you're not too tired between hockey practices - when I got the call.

"Connie Moreau?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Of the Ducks?"

Oh boy. Probably another reporter that wanted to do a retrospective of the Junior Goodwill sensation, or get my opinion on the up and coming sport of women's ice hockey. Do I think women should play in their own league, or should things be integrated like the Ducks?

Who cares, as long as you get to play? Yeah, I normally don't get quoted.

"I'm a scout for the US Women's Olympic Ice Hockey Team."

And the rest is history.

Well, eventually it's history. First it's Olympic Trials in Salt Lake City.

\--

The rink was full of girls and women, skating around and waiting for someone to tell us what to do. It was like that scene from _A League of Their Own_ , but without Madonna. Actually, Madonna might have been there in that sea of women, waiting for her chance to balance her stick on her hand. Or was that Rosie O'Donnell? Either way, I didn't see Madonna.

"I guess every girl in the country thinks she can play hockey all of the sudden."

I was tightening the laces on my skates, which I'm _sure_ is why she waited for that moment to skate up; she knew I'd have to look up at her. Julie "The Cat" Gaffney in all her holier-than-thou glory. She'd mellowed a little at Eden, and, yeah, we were team mates. We totally respected each other. I just had some issues with displaced aggression when it came to her.

I stood up and leaned on my stick, attempting to look totally nonchalant. She smiled, but didn't smirk, and then she hugged me. "It's good to see you, Connie. I knew you'd be here."

"Thanks. You too, Cat. How's, uh. That guy you've been dating. From. School."

"We broke up."

"Sorry." I wasn't really, but I tried to sound like I was. After Guy and I broke up, Julie and her boyfriend were like an annoying reminder that it sucks to be single at a tiny prep school.

She shrugged, and I realized all of the sudden that we were both wearing our Ducks jerseys. I didn't have a chance to say anything, though, because one of the coaches blew a whistle, starting trials. "All right, ladies, line up!"

\--

It was drills most of the day. Speed drills, stick drills, the usual. They ran us too ragged to get a chance to really talk to each other, but we were promised a scrimmage at the end of the day if we managed to make it that far.

Julie and I got put on the same team, which was good, because I didn't want to make her look bad by scoring against her. The only friends you have on the ice during the game are the ones on your side.

While the teams were getting ready, she skated over to me. "Glad we're on the same team, Moreau. I wouldn't want to make you look bad by stopping all your shots."

Funny.

\--

The scrimmage was good. I was still getting used to the rules of women's ice hockey, and it was still weird to play without all that testosterone flying around you, but hockey is hockey.

I was on right wing, and the instant the puck dropped, I was playing some of the hardest hockey of my life. It was strange to play with people I'd never even spoken to, let alone played with before. The communication wasn't there, the strategy was rough, but we were all there to make the team and that meant making each other look good.

Five minutes into the first and I was hanging back at our blue line, waiting for the defense to catch the puck. "On your left!" There was a hole the size of a Great Lake out there, and I skated up to give support to the Center, who was frantically trying to fill the gap.

Julie had the fastest glove in hockey, but her stick side wasn't so bad either, and she stopped the shot like an ace, deflecting it over towards me. I took it and flew out of the zone, reminding myself to thank her later.

I love the team aspect of hockey as much as the next Duck, but when you've got a breakaway and your Center is back still trying to get untangled from the mess that your substandard D left you, you go for it. The wind rushed past me, and I could hear the defenders behind me, yelling, as the goalie set herself. They were getting closer, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the left wing skate up the side, totally uncovered. Both defenders were on me.

If the Ducks taught me one thing, it was that personal glory isn't as important as the team. I flicked the puck over and she one-timed it in. I probably could have made the shot, but she _definitely_ could, and that was all that mattered.

Besides, assists count as points, too.

Our team won in a shut out - because, yeah, The Cat's just that good - and even though I only had that one assist for the night, I played some good hockey.

And wouldn't you know it... we both made the team.

\--

Then we hit the history part. The part where we won the first gold medal in our sport in Olympic history, shocking the world by upsetting Canada. Normally I remember every second of every game I play, but all the games seem like a blur. Most of what I remember happened in between.

Like how at the opening ceremonies, Julie reached down and held my hand as we waved our little American flags. I looked over at her and she wrinkled her nose, rolling her eyes up. I think she hated wearing those stupid cowboy hats more than I did.

I didn't think much of it then. We were jet lagged and home sick, and everyone kept interviewing us about how awesome the Canadian team was. I wasn't thinking straight. She probably had cold hands.

I'm an idiot sometimes.

\--

The day after the opening ceremonies, we went out for lunch. She chose sushi. I was fine with that until the food came. I must have paled a little, because she said something about uncouth Minnesotans.

"Oh, like Bangor's the center of all things cultured."

"It's Bang. Gore."

"What?"

"You're pronouncing it wrong."

"Okay. Like Bang-Gore is the center of all things cultured."

"You should come out to Cambridge sometime."

I shrugged noncommittally and popped something I hoped wasn't eel into my mouth.

"How's the octopus?"

Son of a bitch. "Chewy," I replied, and swallowed it down whole. Seemed quicker. I wished the coach would let us eat at the McDonald's they set up in the Athletes' Village, but no. Too fattening.

Julie smiled. "How come we didn't hang out more when we were Ducks?"

"I'm still a Duck." She rolled her eyes at me, in the expression that I was starting to understand meant I should stop being so sensitive. "I don't know."

"I think it was because we didn't want it to seem like the only two girls were sticking together."

"I was dating Guy, I don't think it would have been a problem." Plus I just didn't think like that. I was always one of the only girls among guys. It was never a big deal.

"I guess so." She looked around, as if she expected Guy to walk in at that moment. Yeah right. Guy was probably at the McDonald's, enjoying a Big Mac with the men's team. He wouldn't be caught dead in a place that didn't cook its food.

Sometimes I missed Guy. "Remind me never to eat sushi again."

She grinned and reached across the table to take my hand. Once I could ignore. Twice? Twice meant something. "Tomorrow we can try shabu shabu."

And sometimes I didn't miss Guy at all.

\--

The night before the finals, we were all on edge. It was us versus Canada. Again. We were going to medal one way or another, but we all wanted that gold. Especially after the last game against Canada. Everyone was calling it a fluke, but we routed them 7-4, and we all knew we deserved to win.

This was a couple of days before the guys melted down, but they hadn't been playing great. We were our country's hopes for gold in hockey. That sort of thing really gets to you when you're on the other side of the world.

Cammi was pacing the halls, talking to Ben and Amie whenever she stopped long enough to talk. I was standing around killing time until it was time to sleep, avoiding Julie. There had been a lot more hand holding in the last few days, and it was making me nervous. Nervous in a good way, which just made me even more nervous.

Julie poked her head out of our room and tugged on my arm. "I want to talk to you."

My stomach dropped, but I followed her in. "What's up?"

"This is amazing. Tomorrow we're going to play in the finals of the Olympics." She was pacing. Great. Everyone was pacing.

"Yeah."

"It's all because of the Ducks. I think the Ducks were the best thing to ever happen to me."

I nodded. "I _know_ the Ducks were the best thing to ever happen to me."

She looked down at her hands for a second, then back up at me. "You're right. The best thing."

And then she sort of kissed me. Tentatively. Like she was worried I would bite her or something. I was surprised, but not totally, and, hey, I'd wanted to kiss her for awhile.

It's so much easier to admit that when someone else makes the first move.

I kissed her back, and then pulled away and smiled. "I would have been okay with that happening sooner."

"I didn't know that you're..."

"I'm not." I shrugged. "But... you're... _the Cat_."

She laughed and bit her lip. "If you ever say that to Averman, I'll kill you."

I didn't have to. He made the obvious joke anyway as soon as he heard.

"If you ever mention Averman again right after I kiss you, _I'll_ kill _you_."

"Hey. _I_ kissed _you_ , Moreau. Get your facts straight." She reached down and took my hands, placing them on her hips. "Does that mean there's going to be more kissing?"

"Oh yeah."

\--

We spent way too long that night kissing and talking and kissing and catching up and kissing. Even though I should have felt exhausted the next day, I didn't. I felt invigorated. It was great.

And it got greater, and we beat the Canadians 3-1, and _that_ is the history part. Winning that gold was the second best thing to happen to me in Japan. The first was Julie.

Sure, there was that whole - she's at Harvard, I'm at UM Duluth - thing to deal with when we got back to the States. But Cambridge was a pretty cool place, and even though Duluth wasn't, that wasn't really the important part. She still visited.

And then suddenly it was time to decide what to do after college, and I thought maybe I'd head out to the east coast and try one of those fancy grad schools they've got out in Boston and try to become a sports caster. So I took my tests, and managed to get some good recommendations - I pretty much owe Coach Bombay my entire life from twelve years old on - and got into a journalism program at BU.

Now our gold medals sit side by side on the mantle of our non-working fireplace in our a bit-too-expensive-for-my-tastes-but-I-love-that-pizza-place-T.-Anthony's-that's-nearby apartment off Comm Ave, and we play league hockey on weekends and are talking about season tickets to the Bruins.

The Ducks meet up once or twice a year as to shoot the puck around and talk about the glory days. Some of the guys made it to the NHL. Guy did. Charlie even made it to the Anaheim Ducks, which we all get a kick out of. But most of us are normal people, except for once or twice a year when we put on the jerseys and lace up our skates, and we all fly together again.

 


End file.
